


Gooey

by jeannedarc



Series: zaba [1]
Category: VIXX
Genre: Faerie!AU, M/M, not really violent but i thought i'd tag it anyway just in case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 12:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5334500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeannedarc/pseuds/jeannedarc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Royal Prince of the Court of Unseelie, Sanghyuk, runs away from home and doesn't expect what he ends up meeting out in the land of the Neutral Fae.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gooey

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU SO MUCH TO RILEY FOR BEING MY SAVIOUR AND TELLING ME WHEN THINGS WERE GOING HORRIBLY WRONG. please expect more from this verse. i love it too much to let it go.

His power is waning, and he’s getting desperate. Sanghyuk, weighed down by the troubles only those who’ve recently escaped from the fae court of the highest power can understand, trudges through the light snow that covers the ground of this neutral forest, looking out for any evil forces that might be watching him from behind the shadow of the trees. He’s never been out to the Unfeeling Forest before, and throughout his childhood he found warning in tales from his mother and older sisters and nursemaid -- that places such as these, under protection of neither court, are filled with lurking dangers, fae without alliances, magic without bounds. The most powerful charmers and illusionists live all the way out here, posing a danger that he doesn’t yet know.

His power is waning, and he sorely misses the comforts of home. He misses the servants that were there to rub his back, to massage his aching hands, to comb his hair and pin it back with bright-red autumn leaves and pinecones and berries. He misses the feasts that took place every night, misses the vaguely bitter taste of late-summer, early-autumn wine, misses his mother’s laugh and his sisters’ smiles. He misses his nursemaid calling him spoiled, even though she was wrong. He even misses his father’s stern brown, laid heavy over his fine features, wrought with disapproval and knit together with concern for his son and his libertine ways.

His wings are heavy with ice, and he’s growing weaker with every step, but he can’t turn back now, no matter how afraid he is.

It would kill him to go back to that castle in the trees, and he knows in whatever soul he might have that he doesn’t want to return to the court life. Yet in the very same breath, he’s not certain in his ability to survive the winter alone. His family would take care of him, the Royal Family of Seelie, but they would place on him the restrictions that only a family could expect of their child: For him to take vows, bind himself forever to the Prince of the Unseelie Court, if only for the sake of a temporary alliance that won’t last a hundred years. 

His life is his own, and he will not let it be a pawn in some political game that he won’t inherit the right to play for another few centuries.

In the back of his mind, he hears his father’s voice, chiding him for being so selfish. “It’s for the good of all the fae in this court,” he imagines his father saying -- not that it’s much of a stretch; his father had said almost as much before, during the meetings they’d had in the few years before he’d decided to leave. 

He walks slowly forth with his eyes turned skyward, and blinks back the thin flakes of snow that start to fall from the vast, deep blue smattered with thick but sparse clouds overhead. They coat his eyelashes, long and curved against the high bone of his cheek, and stick to his wings. He almost considers a meager attempt at a glamour just so they don’t feel quite as heavy anymore.

He continues walking, for what feels like forever. He can feel eyes on him, but can’t tell from where, doesn’t want to look around for them, has no desire to know what’s watching him or whether or not said being considers him prey. The cold overwhelms him, threatens to take him to his knees in the softly-piling snow that gathers at his bare feet. He sorely wishes he’d thought to bring shoes in his hasty flight from home, as if the silken garments would have kept him very warm in this situation.

When it gets to be too much -- the stress of missing home and the exhaustion that wracks his body to its very core -- he collapses in the earth, feeling the dirt begin to cake in his knees, wet and freezing and raw.

He sleeps, despite the instinct in him that tells him not to. It takes him quickly, and he is grateful in his last waking moments for a swift death.

* * *

When Sanghyuk awakens, it is to firelight that dances before his eyes, and to warmth that reaches his core but not his extremities, which tingle with the leftover memory of the cold. His fingers tingle and he can swear there’s only a vague sensation of them actually being there as opposed to figments of his imagination, but then --

Ah. There is definitely a second pair of hands trying to keep him warm, along with a muttering that is sounded by a voice he’s never heard before. “Please warm up, I’d hate to be responsible for your death out here in the wild, please please please warm up.” The voice is kindly, although on edge; he thinks it almost sounds a little familiar, in the sense that one recognises voices from dreams on occasion.

The hands leave him, and Sanghyuk wants to beg them to stay; though they’re not doing much in the way of helping, the contact with another being, however brief, brings him a quick reminder of home. Sanghyuk groans, and the voice’s muttering stops immediately. “You’re awake.” And the voice sounds relieved.

For the first time since coming here Sanghyuk opens his eyes, and is surprised to be met with any source of light. He glances quickly at his surroundings, taking them in, and is even more shocked when he realises that he and his rescuer are surrounded by stone. “I’m sorry it’s so cold,” says the voice, and Sanghyuk turns his attentions to its source -- a short, thin…

Faerie.

Sanghyuk curls in on himself defensively, one arm wrapped around his knees, the other held out with an illusion of magic ready at his palm. “Are you one of the neutrals?” he demands harshly, upper lip stiff, shaking and this time not from the cold.

“The neutrals?” And the rescuer laughs, his eyes curving upwards into tiny crescents. His smile is bright, broad, something in which Sanghyuk can again take comfort, however shortly. “No, no, that’s not me. I just happen to live here.” The rescuer stands up, fitting into the tiny cave perfectly -- Sanghyuk already loathes the idea of standing in here, knows he’ll smack his head multiple times just out of force of habit -- and bows his head. “I’m Hakyeon, I’m the faerie that saved you from something trying to eat you alive.”

“Oh. So I’m still alive.” Sanghyuk reaches up, rubs the back of his neck awkwardly; he’d been so sure that this place was death.

The other laughs again, reaching out and taking Sanghyuk’s hands between his own, thumbing tenderly over his knuckles and trying to rub some warmth into them. “You are still alive. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Maybe I wanted to be dead.”

“People who want to be dead don’t keep walking,” and here Hakyeon’s tone is serious, his eyes narrowed as he peers up at Sanghyuk along the length of his arm. “You kept going for a long time. I assumed you were looking for something until you let yourself drop like that. You’re lucky you made it. If I hadn’t stepped in when I did, you would’ve been swallowed whole by one of the monsters that occasionally wanders into the forest here.”

“Monsters?” Sanghyuk feels his eyebrows shooting up over his forehead and he frowns, disapprovingly at that. “What kind of monsters?”

“Oh, you know, great giant things that look sort of like us, but wingless, and hairier.” Hakyeon’s back to not being serious, for which Sanghyuk is grateful. “I haven’t gotten your name.”

“Sanghyuk, Prince of the Royal Court of Seelie.” It’s a habit, announcing his title, and one that makes him bite down hard at the inside of his cheek at that. He tastes sugar-sweet blood dripping onto his tongue. He also has to pretend he doesn’t see Hakyeon’s face light up -- Sanghyuk knows there’s always someone questing for power, even in places where power doesn’t matter. “I don’t suppose I’m in a place that has any respect for either court.”

“Is that what you meant by neutrals? Then yes, I guess we’re in one of those places.” Hakyeon looks wistful, for some reason. “This place doesn’t care what court you come from or who you represent. It certainly doesn’t give half a care as to whether or not you’re the Royal Prince.” And here Hakyeon stands, the top of his head grazing the roof of the cave. “I’m going out to find something to eat. You stay here, sleep. You’re probably still exhausted from all the adventure.” And Hakyeon leaves, a certain sway to his hips that somehow reads like disappointment.

Sanghyuk has a dozen questions to ask him, but no voice with which to call out, to ask him to stay. So he curls up in his blanket of woven flowers, wishes he had his layers upon layers of spun silks instead, and forces himself to go back to sleep.

As he drifts away he thinks of that kindly face, and wonders in a dream-like state what, exactly, compelled Hakyeon to risk his neck in order to save him.

* * *

The second time Sanghyuk awakens, Hakyeon is stirring something in a makeshift pot, and it doesn’t smell great but it does smell edible, so Sanghyuk supposes it’s what passes for food these days. He tries his best not to turn his nose up at the scent of it as it fills their little cave. “You’re awake,” Hakyeon breathes as he turns around, all smiles, all fake, completely different from the fae that had left just a few hours prior. “That’s good. I was afraid the second time would do you in.”

“You were afraid, or you were hoping?” Sanghyuk mumbles, pressing his palms to his eyes and rubbing at them hard. “What are you cooking?”

“Leftover dandelion greens from a friend’s summertime stash,” Hakyeon says, obviously contented with his own efforts at food. For Sanghyuk’s part, he pretends to be attracted to the food Hakyeon is cooking, when in reality he misses his roasts and his cakes and his bittersweet autumn wine. “There’s all kinds of pine nuts in it too, in case you’re interested.” There’s something in Hakyeon’s tone that lets Sanghyuk know that they’re both aware as to just how not-interested Sanghyuk is.

Then Sanghyuk’s stomach makes the ugliest noise he thinks he’s ever heard, and he blushes, brow knitting together in displeasure with his own body. Hakyeon laughs mirthlessly, and strains two servings of stew into wooden bowls. 

As they eat their meager dinner, Hakyeon apparently decides that smack in the middle of a mouthful of food is the best time to ask Sanghyuk a rather important-sounding question, albeit not quite in the form of one. “You haven’t told me yet. What are you doing out here, Royal Prince of the Seelie Court?”

Sanghyuk nearly chokes on a stewed dandelion stem, which, by the by, is delicious, not that he’d ever admit it to either himself or Hakyeon. When he’s coughed his way through the food, he frowns. “What does it matter to you what I’m doing out here?” he demands, moving on the makeshift bed and folding his legs underneath him.

“Because it’s not every day that we get to see royalty out in this neck of the woods.” Hakyeon turns slightly, facing Sanghyuk, eyeing him over the edge of a spoonful of pine nuts and broth. “You’re something of a rarity. Consider me interested.”

Suddenly Sanghyuk doesn’t feel so talkative -- as if he did before. The taste of stew lodges in his throat, prevents him from saying anything that he might regret later, and he continues eating as if nothing is wrong.

Hakyeon, of course, is uncannily cheerful about the entire affair. “It’s okay, I’ll get all your secrets out of you eventually,” he crows. Apparently he’s already wolfed down his portion and he looks like he wants to go for another, but he doesn’t, instead crawling up beside Sanghyuk in the bed -- as if the space between them weren’t small enough in this tiny cave. Too friendly by far, Hakyeon slings an arm around Sanghyuk’s shoulders, pulling him into an awkward, one-armed hug. “I’m good at getting things out of people.”

Sanghyuk groans, and continues eating.

* * *

Their next few days go much like the first one -- Sanghyuk sleeping off a depression that he can’t quite explain, and Hakyeon trying to talk only to be met with silence. Certainly, Sanghyuk is cordial when need be, and never rebuffs Hakyeon in a rude way (though he certainly wants to), but instead ignores his hundreds of ridiculous question.

“What’s being a prince like?”

Silence.

“What kind of magic do you know how to do?”

Silence.

“Since you hate my cooking so much, what are you used to eating?”

Silence.

“What was your court like?”

Silence, though Sanghyuk finds himself questioning the phrasing of the question. He almost answers that one.

“Do you really have a reason for running away, or do you just want to stick it to someone?”

“What is that supposed to mean,” Sanghyuk deadpans, brow set low over his eyes, trying not to be angry. “Of course I have a reason.”

Hakyeon smiles, and his face is illuminated in an eerie manner from the firelight shining in the corner. “Then what is it?”

Silence, again.

Hakyeon, bless him, is not deterred by the stone face Sanghyuk gives him. It’s almost inspiring, Sanghyuk thinks as he rattles on about how he’s been living out here for five years, how he used to have a lot of friends in high places before he ended up coming out here, how he’s learned a ton of new magic from the fae that live in the area, how he used to be terrible at starting fires and making illusion charms to deter predators but now he’s quite well-practiced at it.

Finally Sanghyuk has to ask: “Do you have to fill every silence with noise?”

Hakyeon practically wilts under the question, and for once he is thrown off by the idea that maybe he’s talking too much, because he stops talking altogether.

Privately, Sanghyuk kind of misses the sound of Hakyeon’s voice filling the awkward spaces between them, but he does nothing to bring them back.

* * *

After a few more days of the silent treatment, Sanghyuk decides he can’t take it anymore, and ventures out of the cave, only to be met by a host of other creatures, some of which he recognises, most of which he couldn’t tell from anything else. There are flowers that speak to him in creepy whispers, a tree that mumbles in a language that Sanghyuk can’t understand, and a large number of fae, none of whom seem particularly impressed by Sanghyuk’s royal status when he accidentally tells them of it in conversation. They offer to teach him things, and he declines each offer, making mental note to ask Hakyeon later if he knows about them, if Sanghyuk can really learn from them.

An unfriendly faerie approaches, looking as if he’s dying of the cold, and Sanghyuk feels that tingle in the base of his spine that tells him that this stranger is a potential ally, one of the same kind as he. “Who goes there?” he demands, halting in place, holding up his hands as if to attack even though he’s so weak out here that he couldn’t hurt anyone even if he tried.

“What does it matter to you,” and the voice is soft, reminiscent of something that could float away in a gust of wind. “I’m just looking for my…” And here he’s obviously struggling with words, but settles on ‘friend’ to finish off the sentence. “Have you seen him?” The fae’s wings struggle to flit about, and Sanghyuk eyes the appendages with concern.

“No, I don’t know who you’re--” Oh, right. Hakyeon. Probably. “...He’s back at our cave. I assume you know where that is?”

“I don’t,” says the wispy voice, and the faerie peeks out from under long hair at Sanghyuk, watching him intently, lips parted. “Please show me the way.”

Sanghyuk, assuming only the best, leads this fae in the direction of the cave, but doesn’t go all the way inside -- after all, he isn’t quite done venturing, and has many more things he’d like to explore. Still, he points the fae in the direction of the open mouth of the cave, which appears to be dark from the outside but is actually lit up inside. He explains all this to the stranger, who grins in a way that makes Sanghyuk uncomfortable for reasons he cannot quite explain. In fact, it’s enough to make him want to accompany this individual to the opening in the cave, so he does, guiding him inside.

Oh, if only he’d been paying attention when Hakyeon had been prattling on before.

The first thing that happens when Sanghyuk and the stranger enter the cave is that Hakyeon bristles visibly, his palms go up, twinkling with offensive magic that burns bright orange as if an ember were powering it. The stranger laughs quietly, and puts up a shield that contains both him and Sanghyuk inside. “You’re not going to hurt me,” says the stranger. “I’ll take care of your precious prince if you do.”

“Taekwoon,” Hakyeon growls, visibly trying to figure out this conundrum. 

Sanghyuk doesn’t know much, but he knows now that he’s made a terrible mistake, bringing this stranger -- Taekwoon -- here. He pins the larger fae to the wall, and reaches for the knife he usually carried strapped to his thigh, just out of habit. Of course, it’s not there, and Sanghyuk is forced to curse Hakyeon, if silently, for stripping him of his weapon.

So he binds Taekwoon to the wall instead, and yes, his magic is weak, but it’s enough to fell the shield binding him to Taekwoon. This lets him cross the short distance between himself and Hakyeon, pushing past the elder fae to grab up his knife. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles as he moves, then marches right back across the cave to press the blade of his weapon to Taekwoon’s throat.

“You have made a mistake, tricking me into bringing you here,” Sanghyuk breathes in a low voice, eyes narrowing, resisting the urge to cut the pale flesh under his blade. “You will leave, and you will tell no one what you have seen here, and you will keep to yourself from now on.”

Taekwoon laughs without humour, his weight beginning to collapse under the strain of his magical bonds. “I don’t know who taught you that there are rules out here, but there aren’t,” he says softly. Then the fae falls to the floor, clambers out of the cave, letting his wings carry him the ways in which his feet cannot.

When Sanghyuk turns back to Hakyeon, he can’t help himself -- he puts on a sheepish grin, scratches the back of his neck. “Oops?”

“Oops,” Hakyeon mutters, eyes trained willfully on Sanghyuk’s face. “You’re joking, right? Oops? That’s all you’ve got? That’s one of the things that’s been trying to kill me since I got here years ago, and I just now within the last year figured out how to get away from him, and you led him right to where I’ve set up shop, and all you have to say is oops.” His tone switches from vague disbelief to unbridled rage so quickly that Sanghyuk isn’t certain he isn’t imagining it.

“I didn’t know! You’re friendly with so many people out here, how was I supposed to figure out that you weren’t with that one?” Sanghyuk is yelling now, even though he doesn’t mean to be; his face is coloured bright crimson and there are tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. “It’s your fault for being friends with strangers, your fault for trying to guard a stupid cave, your fault for even being out here in the first place!”

Hakyeon shrinks back, his face wrinkled up, and he looks about as ready to cry as Sanghyuk feels. They both breathe heavily, the sounds of shallow inhales and heavy exhales filling the silence between them. Sanghyuk thinks he prefers Hakyeon running his mouth to this tense quiet.

“You’re right,” Hakyeon says in the voice of a broken man. “You’re absolutely right. Maybe I should leave.” So he does, gathering up a cloak hanging in the corner, woven with fresh pine needles and leaves, and wraps himself up inside it. Then he storms out, and for some reason, Sanghyuk is compelled to run out after him. Maybe it’s the imminent threat of death out there waiting for the spring faerie, the knowledge Sanghyuk now has of Hakyeon’s enemies. Maybe it’s something more, something protective -- he had, after all, been raised to believe that some things in life are worth protecting.

He doesn’t go out, though, instead curling in the bed and filling himself with thoughts about what a fool he’s been, thinking he could survive out here in the neutral zone, so far from home that no one he knows and loves can find him.

* * *

Later that evening, after much time has passed and the sunset colours the light streaming into the cave an autumnal shade of gold, Sanghyuk is only half-asleep, but he swears he could dream the sound that bounces off the cave walls. Hakyeon has returned; he flings off his cloak and hangs it in its normal spot before flopping down in the tiny bed alongside Sanghyuk.

There’s no way he knows Sanghyuk is awake, so the younger pretends to snore, and Hakyeon begins speaking quietly.

“I used to be a member of the Unseelie Court,” he murmurs, so low that Sanghyuk isn’t sure he’s not imagining the sound. “No one particularly important, just someone who had to go to balls every so often, raise toasts to the king at feast, kiss up to those who thought they were playing a crucial part of a fool’s game. And I had a lover, and that lover was the prince.”

The prince? Sanghyuk swallows so loud that it causes Hakyeon to pause. The prince to whom Sanghyuk had been betrothed, albeit for political reasons, had taken a lover before him? Now he’s privately glad he didn’t take that proposal the way his parents had so wanted him to.

“I cared deeply for him. Maybe even loved him a little more than I should have. And one evening, drunk on summer wine, I curled around him, stroked his hair and told him as much. He was already asleep, of course, and I don’t know that he heard me, but the very next day I was dragged from a lunch engagement I had with one of the royal princesses, held in contempt of the Unseelie Court, branded a traitor for sleeping with their beloved prince. My punishment was that of being banned from the court, and ever since then I have lived out here.

“Maybe you’re right, Sanghyuk, Royal Prince of the Seelie Court. Maybe it’s my fault for living out here.” And here Hakyeon’s breath brushes the pointed shell of Sanghyuk’s ear, and he smells vaguely of wine, and his voice ekes of a sadness that Sanghyuk can neither understand nor explain. “Maybe it’s my fault for loving Jaehwan so much. But the fact of the matter is that no matter what I did in order to deserve this fate? I don’t regret it, not one bit.”

Sanghyuk wants to turn around in the hold Hakyeon has on him, wants to press his lips comfortingly to the elder’s forehead, wants to tell him that he’s sorry, that he won’t bring anyone around anymore and that he’ll constantly be on his guard looking out for people that look to harm their current life together. But instead, he pretends to sleep, and eventually, Hakyeon drifts off as well.

* * *

Their next few weeks go along quietly, Hakyeon going back to normal as if Sanghyuk has apologised and nothing awful has transpired between the two of them. He also doesn’t acknowledge the drunken confession he made, operating on the assumption that Sanghyuk hasn’t heard any of it. Sanghyuk doesn’t know how much of the rattling coming from Hakyeon he can take, not when the elder’s face is filled with so much sadness he looks like he’s going to burst into tears at any minute.

He wants to apologise, but he doesn’t know how.

When the nights are long and Sanghyuk can’t sleep, he practises his fire spells until he can melt through ice. He doesn’t know what good it’s going to do him unless he leaves, and one day he knows what his apology has to be.

So when things are cold, too cold for Sanghyuk to see the world beyond the cloud of steam that envelops him, and he can barely move beyond the sluggish movements of dragging himself around the cave, Sanghyuk goes out and gathers things for them to eat. He digs under snow, melts it with fire, tries his best to be the true practitioner of magic he knows himself to be. When he has an armful of frozen greens and various nuts that absolutely were not stolen from various woodland creatures -- squirrels, chipmunks and the like -- he goes back to the cave, and wakes Hakyeon, who had just settled in for his afternoon nap.

“I brought things for dinner,” he says, unceremonious as possible.

Hakyeon breaks into a bright grin, and he looks like he’s going to launch himself into a hug, but Sanghyuk stands back, nodding down at the armload of food he carries in his arms. 

So he settles on an encouraging nod himself, and curls back up. Sanghyuk dumps all the ingredients for their dinner into the large pot, then crawls into bed, his arms wrapped around Hakyeon’s back, pulling him into a hug.

For warmth, of course. No other reason.

* * *

They kiss for the first time completely by accident, at least in Sanghyuk’s estimation. They’re sitting up late one night, Hakyeon staying up to maintain the new illusion charms he’s draped over the cave’s entrance, Sanghyuk merely to keep the other company, and talking about things that don’t matter, a real conversation despite Sanghyuk’s need to keep the most private portions of himself hidden away. “You never did tell me why you ran away,” Hakyeon is saying, one eyebrow raised, his hand on Sanghyuk’s shoulder, shaking him gently.

“I ran away because…” And he doesn’t know how to say it, because he knows that it will probably hurt Hakyeon to hear that Sanghyuk was set to wed his beloved Prince Jaehwan, and despite his urges to the contrary, he doesn’t want to hurt Hakyeon, not really. So he does what anyone would do: uses his fae tricks, spins a tale. “I was meant to marry some girl, some member of the Unseelie Court. And I didn’t want to, so I came here, where my family can’t find me, knowing they wouldn’t chase after me if I got far enough away.”

Hakyeon’s lips purse into a thin line for a long minute, and then he smiles. “That’s all? You should marry the girl, then, little one. For your family’s sake. They must love you very much if they want you to marry someone of their choosing.”

Too late into the lie, Sanghyuk remembers that there are no daughters of the royal family in the Unseelie Court, and he knows he can’t take it back, not yet. So he grimaces, puts on a face for Hakyeon’s sake. “I don’t want to marry some dumb girl,” he says softly, shaking his head. “Why would I?”

“Because it’s what an adult would do, Sanghyuk,” and Hakyeon’s tone is all chastisement, “and you are, most definitely, an adult, albeit a very, very bad one.”

Sanghyuk shakes his head. “I’m not!” he insists, scooting away from the form across the bed from him, pressing his back to the wall. “I’m not an adult, I’m just a little prince, how could you want me to marry some girl I don’t even know?”

“You haven’t met her?” Hakyeon blinks, surprised. “I thought all the members of both courts knew each other. Except the royal families, of course, and that’s because they haven’t spoken to one another about anything but war in half a century.”

Blast, he’s caught. “I-I don’t know anyone personally,” Sanghyuk refutes, flushing, sure that Hakyeon can see the change in his colour despite the dimming light of the fire being the only thing generating light between them. It’s then that he remembers the first lie between them, the one where Sanghyuk doesn’t know anything about what Hakyeon is doing out here, and grins. “You know a lot about court for someone who isn’t from there, you know.” And now they’re both trapped, though they don’t know it. Hakyeon freezes, comically so, and Sanghyuk leans forward, practically collapsing in Hakyeon’s lap, arms wound around his waist. “I was kidding, of course,” he murmurs, face pressed into the other fae’s belly. “You can know whatever you want, it doesn’t matter to me.”

“You knew this whole time?” Hakyeon demands, serious tone a sharp contrast to Sanghyuk’s playful one. Sanghyuk swallows, sits up, glances around and points at himself as if to say ‘who, me?’ Hakyeon shakes his head. “How much do you know?”

Sanghyuk sighs, looking now at anywhere but at Hakyeon’s face. “Enough to know that I’m not supposed to tell you who I was really supposed to marry.”

The expression on Hakyeon’s face changes to one of emotionless stone. “They’re going to marry him off,” he whispers, and Sanghyuk swears he hears a tinkle of glass, representative of Hakyeon’s breaking heart.

“Not now they’re not,” Sanghyuk points out, “not now that I’m not there.”

Hakyeon practically melts at the notion. “You’re right, he can’t be wed if you don’t wed him,” he declares in a decidedly jovial tone. “Now I just have to keep you here forever.”

“You’re going to keep me?!” Sanghyuk pouts, though he’s not sure if he’s more offended by the idea that Hakyeon thinks him possible to be kept, or that the idea hadn’t occurred to Hakyeon sooner. “Isn’t that interesting, a banned man keeping a royal prince by his side for the rest of eternity… or at least, eternity so long as we make it through the winter.” He’s got a catlike look about him now, eyes crinkled up into tiny crescents, a sly grin curling the corners of his mouth. “Is that what you really want, hmm?”

And Hakyeon takes Sanghyuk’s wrists in his hands, pulls the younger into his lap, wraps long legs around his own waist. “Maybe I wanted to keep you the whole time, did you ever think of that?” he purrs, a sound to match Sanghyuk’s expression. They bump foreheads, and their lips brush together, and it’s completely by accident, except for the part where Sanghyuk is pretty sure it had been planned from the start.

He’s not sure he even felt this tricked, this betrayed when the wicked fae Taekwoon had charmed him into showing him where the cave was.

They go to bed that morning entwined in one another’s arms, their brows pushed together, their legs entangled. The last thought Sanghyuk has before falling asleep is just how nice it is to have someone he cares about so close to him.

* * *

The attack upon them comes by the time the snow is piled up heavy around their door. Fortunately, Sanghyuk has been practicing his shield charms, and together he and Hakyeon have been learning to do new things with their powers combined, Sanghyuk’s raw power something of a complement Hakyeon’s cleverness. So the fae from before -- Taekwoon, all darkness and waiting for summer and weak attempts at magic -- has had to enlist some sort of help. He stands outside their cave, threatening as ever, his eyes narrowed and his hand joined with another.

“Hongbin?” Hakyeon asks, and Sanghyuk is loathe to come to the understanding that Hakyeon knows absolutely everyone around these woods, while he himself knows no one. “I can’t believe this, why are you helping him?”

“He offered me a promise I couldn’t refuse,” Hongbin says flatly, glancing away, trying his hardest not to make eye contact with either Hakyeon or Sanghyuk.

“Whatever he can offer you, you know I can offer better once the seasons change,” Hakyeon points out, trying to resolve this as diplomatically as possible. Sanghyuk, in the meantime, reaches down to wrap his fingers around the handle of his knife, ready to defend what’s his at any cost. “Please, just hold off.”

“I can’t,” Hongbin says, looking Hakyeon in the eye for the first time.

Taekwoon, however, has apparently grown tired of talking, and makes his charge, armed with the other fae as a shield. What a coward, Sanghyuk thinks, trying not to spit in the larger fae’s direction just at the idea. When the time comes, Sanghyuk steps in front of Hakyeon, guarding him, feeling the tingle of magic that works its way up his spine. His knife is drawn already; he holds it up to keep anything from hurting Hakyeon, especially the fae launching an attack.

Hakyeon is not good in battle situations, as made evident by the fact that he’s currently in hysterics, screaming for Sanghyuk not to hurt Hongbin, “that’s my friend, please, you can’t hurt him, he’s just gotten married--”

There’s a pause. “Did he threaten Wonshik?” Hakyeon asks, and Sanghyuk turns around, swinging his arm out in front of him and, by pure accident, cutting open Taekwoon’s hand, back to front, a clean slice that should, by all accounts, dismember him somewhat. How it doesn’t, Sanghyuk has no idea, but he’s kind of grateful -- he’s not sure Hakyeon can stand the sight of blood.

“Are you just involved in everyone’s life?” he demands, not even glancing away from Hakyeon’s face as he kicks Taekwoon in the face to make sure he stays down for the time being. He ignores the grunting he elicits from the other fae. 

“Maybe a little bit,” Hakyeon concedes, binding Taekwoon’s limbs to the snow magically. “What else is there to do out here besides look for food and talk to people?”

Neither had counted on Hongbin acting independently, so when he blasts them down with cold magic, the sparkles glinting brilliant white against the rays of the sun, they’re both knocked off of their feet. “Hongbin--” Hakyeon gasps, the wind knocked from his lungs as he struggles to stand.

“I have to save him,” Hongbin says, standing over the pair of them, reaching down to pull a now-unbound Taekwoon from his place in the snow. “You must understand, I’ve heard you talk about this one--”

“Is now the time for this?” Taekwoon demands coldly, shaking off the snowflakes that gather in the folds of his wintertime robes. “Because if it is, I’ll gladly stand aside and let the two of you have your tea party.”

“You’re right, sir, absolutely, sir, I’m sorry, sir,” and Hongbin is bowing despite the look of pure contempt on his face. Sanghyuk doesn’t know what he would do in Hongbin’s situation, tries to think of what he could possibly do in order to save Hakyeon, but --

Now there’s a foot pressing into his chest; he coughs with the strain against his ribcage.

“You’re going to die just like your friend, Princely One,” Taekwoon says dully, heel digging into Sanghyuk’s sternum. Sanghyuk cranes his neck, sees that Hongbin is pinning Hakyeon in much the same manner. He’s overcome with the urge to reach out, take Hakyeon’s hand in his. However, he can’t reach that far, and he curses the situation in which he’s put himself.

“Hongbin,” Hakyeon spits, breathing ragged from the foot planted heavy in his chest, “how could you. You know I’d save you from anything if you’d only ask.”

“I’m sorry, friend,” and Sanghyuk swears he sees the regret drain from Hongbin’s face as he takes a sword from his hip, unsheathing it with a loud sound that echoes in the otherwise empty forest. Sanghyuk swears he feels the eyes of the other fae and creatures that lurk in this forest on him, on Hakyeon, looking on but too afraid to stop this execution.

Then Hakyeon grabs Sanghyuk’s hand, and Sanghyuk feels magic pulsing into his fingertips, and through touch they do something they’ve practiced just a couple of times before -- combining powers just long enough to throw their assailants to the ground, the magic between them twinkling bright in the sunlight. Sanghyuk takes the chance to stand, pinning both attackers to the ground with Hakyeon’s assistance, and they stand there, catching their collective breath, Hakyeon with a hand to his own belly, gasping for air. 

 

“Do you feel better now that you’ve tried to murder us?” Sanghyuk asks, climbing to his feet and dusting himself free of loose snow powder and holding up an arm to keep Hakyeon from charging at the enemies. Taekwoon scowls menacingly up at them, shivering against the cold, making obvious his intent to wriggle free of the bonds that keep him pinned to the ground. Hongbin does much the same, though his desire to fight seems to come from a quiet place of determination rather than one of pure anger as Taekwoon’s does. In any case, the both of them struggle to break free, ultimately failing, and Sanghyuk stands over them, resisting again the urge to kill them both.

It’s only because Hakyeon is standing right behind him, one hand curled around his forearm, saying in a quiet voice something about how Sanghyuk can’t kill, he just can’t, Hakyeon won’t let him. Sanghyuk groans, irritated, and shakes his head, shakes Hakyeon’s touch from his body. “You can’t be serious. Just because he’s your friend, we’re going to let them get away with coming after us again?”

“They won’t come after us again,” Hakyeon says in a determined sort of voice, which just annoys Sanghyuk even further. The pair of them loom over their captives, who stare up at them with opposite countenances in their eyes. “You won’t, will you?” And though Hakyeon has something of a kind streak when it comes to his friend, he shows Taekwoon absolutely no mercy, delivering to him a swift kick in the ribs. Sanghyuk takes this lead, doing the same, kicking Taekwoon in the kneecaps. “Will you?”

“Do you think you frighten me…?” Taekwoon is all pride, despite the odds being stacked against him in the most obvious way.

Sanghyuk groans, his loud, frustrated sounds echoing throughout the empty meadow, bouncing off winter-dead trees. “Please, please let me kill this one,” he pleads, turning toward Hakyeon and furrowing his brow. “I know it’s not in you, but I’m not asking you to help.”

“You’re not? You’re asking me to stand by, which is practically the same thing.” He gives a glance of contempt to Taekwoon’s bleeding wound, his summer-gold blood spilling across the snow in heavy spurts. “If you really want to, I can’t stop you, you know.”

Sanghyuk sighs, knowing that it’s a lie, but not one that Hakyeon is conscious of, anyhow. He says nothing, sheaths his knife, knowing it will be of no use to him at this point. “You’re the one in charge here,” he mutters, contemptuous as he storms back into their cave and letting Hakyeon deal with their attackers.

There’s commotion outside, yelling, all from Hongbin and Hakyeon, Taekwoon apparently still stuck in the snowbanks, presumably being left to bleed out of his hand until he grows faint enough to be disposed of in a quiet manner. Sanghyuk wraps the blanket around himself, curls up with his knees to his chin. When the yelling stops, Hakyeon comes in, and Sanghyuk eyes him with a critical gaze. “You made them leave?”

“I made Hongbin leave,” Hakyeon concedes. “The other one is going to freeze to death soon enough. His summer magic can’t help him in the snow.”

“And if he escapes?” Sanghyuk raises a questioning brow.

“He won’t. Hongbin made sure of it.” Hakyeon smiles, and the look on his face sends a chill down Sanghyuk’s spine. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Sanghyuk says, stout in his resolution to keep any weakness from Hakyeon, at least in this particular instance. He won’t let on that he could have killed someone just for trying to hurt Hakyeon, for interrupting their otherwise uneventful day that probably would have ended in kisses and long embraces rather than bloodshed.

Neither of them are in the mood after being attacked, after all.

After watching Sanghyuk do nothing for a long, long period, Hakyeon sighs, sets to starting their dinner for that evening.

Their meal that night is spent ignoring the pitiful moaning going on outside the entrance to their cave. They’re curled up together and trying to fall asleep when Sanghyuk realises it’s gone painfully silent outside. He bounds up out of bed, gasping for breath just out of the sheer shock of it all, and when he looks upon the place where Taekwoon had been pinned into the snow earlier, there is nothing there except the fading remnants of gold blood painted against the snow.

They don’t sleep that night, not really, just take turns watching the door while letting the other pretend to curl up against the wall and rest.

Truth be told, Sanghyuk is terrified, not only of the threat of attack, but also of what he might do in order to best protect Hakyeon from danger. He spends his time awake polishing the handle of his knife.

* * *

Time passes, and eventually their lives go back to normal, without the imminent threat of death lurking over their shoulders at every turn. They forget about the fear that kept them sleepless for a solid three days, though it does impact them in other ways -- namely, Sanghyuk practicing offensive rather than defensive magic, at Hakyeon’s behest. He learns to fashion new weapons out of his own magic pool, and though they’re temporary fixtures they’re good for teaching him how to fight differently. In turn, Sanghyuk teaches Hakyeon every arbitrary difference between Seelie and Unseelie Court, updates him on what little gossip he knows (it’s hard to be in everyone’s business when you’re no longer a part of their lives), and ponders aloud what it would be like to really be married to the prince.

The longer he does it, the less Hakyeon seems hurt by the practice, which is something of an encouragement for Sanghyuk, so he continues on. When Hakyeon starts making corrections, ‘Jaehwan would never be so callous, you clearly don’t know him,’ and all sorts of defenses pouring from his lips, Sanghyuk knows to give it a rest.

They fall into a routine -- eat breakfast, practice magic, maybe watch out for potential attacks on their home, eat lunch, steal kisses in the late afternoon, practice magic, go outside and gather dinner, cook and eat, stay up late talking about court, about their lives before, about Sanghyuk’s mother and sisters and Hakyeon’s friends back at home. Then they decide it’s time to sleep, Hakyeon usually the one to fall asleep first -- Sanghyuk’s just a little more restless, finds it more difficult to get to a resting state at night, and doesn’t mind twining his fingers into Hakyeon’s hair as the older falls asleep in his lap. 

Some nights Sanghyuk is so tired out from practicing his magic that he barely makes it to the end of the nightly portion of their routine before passing out, and when he wakes in the middle of the night from some haunting dream or another, Hakyeon is always wound tightly around him, the two of them curled together. He never feels quite so warm, so safe and protected as he does then.

When they wake up in the morning they spend more time than anyone should staring into each other’s eyes, lazy, languid, unwilling to get up and face the day. Maybe they even share a few kisses, fingers locked against one another’s scalps, scritching gently and tugging at hair that grows longer by the day.

Some days they don’t do anything at all, finding refreshment in breaking the routine, and are content just to lie around in bed, encircled in one another’s arms, each pair of lips buried against the other’s neck. And some days they skip meals, some days they skip practice, some days they get distracted by the idea of holding one another, bodies pressed together, the only thing warm between them one another’s breath against chilled flesh.

It’s a good life, but the heavier the winter becomes, the more keenly aware Sanghyuk is that it can’t last forever.

So their kisses become shorter, more out of habit than an actual force of attraction between the two of them, and Sanghyuk becomes more distant. He still lets Hakyeon fall asleep in his lap night after night, but he doesn’t feel quite as close as he used to.

It’s a measure of self-protection, he tells himself. But the question remains, lurking at the back of his mind: Protection from what?

It’s not like it’s possible to get anything by Hakyeon, either, Sanghyuk realises as time goes on, as the sun grows warmer by the day. The stronger the elder fae becomes, the more aware of everything he is. He tries being kind, at first, asking Sanghyuk what’s the matter, prodding into his inner thoughts, but Sanghyuk is unreceptive. So after a few days of this Hakyeon starts to get a little...needy. Argumentative. It’s almost the thing that spells the end for them, more than the meadow’s worth of distance forming between them, day by day, night by night.

“You think you’re too good to kiss me?” Hakyeon asks one morning after one brief smattering of smooches to the side of his face, which does not end in the usual lazy grin, but does result in Hakyeon becoming very, very clingy. He rings his arms around Sanghyuk’s waist to pull himself up, press their bare chests together, pull him in for a proper kiss, which Sanghyuk refuses. “...No, really, you think you’re too good?” A pout pulls at the corners of Hakyeon’s mouth, and he is obviously trying not to do that thing with his eyebrows that Sanghyuk can’t stand. “Since when do we not do this? Because I don’t recall getting any notice, and if you’re done with me I’d like to know so I can throw you out.”

“Why did you save my life back then?” Sanghyuk asks, no emotion to his voice whatsoever. “I mean, before the winter started. Why did you think I was worth risking your life for? I know what Taekwoon is like for, and if he’s one of the things that would’ve killed me, don’t you think it would have been better to have saved yourself all that trouble?”

“Because I--”

“You didn’t have a reason, did you?”

“I had a perfectly good reason, but it doesn’t matter now.” Hakyeon’s the one gone all aloof now, a scowl firmly set into place along his features. “Just like it hasn’t mattered for the past..however long we’ve been together.”

“Tell me what it is.”

“No.”

“Tell me.”

Hakyeon’s scowl deepens. “Fine. I saved you because I didn’t realise what court you were from, and I wanted to know if you could help me go home. Because if you think you hate it out here, I hate it at least ten times more. I hate the weather, I hate this cave, I hate living under leaves, I hate having to make friends with strangers so that I can survive, I hate having to be on guard all the time because Taekwoon is out there somewhere waiting to kill me -- I hate all of it. Every single bit of it.”

It stings, the truth, but Sanghyuk takes it with a brave face, tries his hardest not to let it be known that he feels more hated than he ever did at home. “I’m sorry you hate it so much, then,” he says slowly, and his words edge up with anger that he doesn’t mean to let slip through the cracks of his courageous façade. “Maybe I should just go, and let you go plead your case yourself, since you hate staying with me so much.”

“I didn’t say that--”

“But you did!” Sanghyuk insists, getting up and gathering the cloak from its little wooden peg at the cave entrance, the one that Hakyeon has probably had for longer than Sanghyuk can imagine. “You hate it here so much, you must hate having to babysit me, too. So I’m just going to go.”

“No, don’t go, don’t go, I didn’t mean it--” Hakyeon is up in a split-second, crossing the small space of the cave between them, reaching out and trying to take Sanghyuk by the arm, only to be pushed away. He hits the floor, maybe a bit overdramatic but getting the intention across just the same. He looks up at Sanghyuk with hurt in his eyes, tears pooling at the corners of them, and shakes his head. “I’m sorry already, don’t leave, I’ll do anything. I’ll say whatever you want me to say.”

“You said what you said.” Sanghyuk shakes him off and leaves the cave, setting out onto the glistening path of snow that leads from their cave. 

He walks a few hundred metres, gazing up at the sun hung high in the sky. He doesn’t know why he’d chosen to fight just then, supposes it had been building for quite some time, what with the distance growing between himself and Hakyeon. He’ll just go home, he guesses, not knowing from the surroundings which way is the one he had made into this forest all those weeks -- was it months? years? he can’t remember now, it feels as if it’s been his whole life -- ago.

When he finds the entrance to the forest, a path covered in snow and lined in footprints, the branches marked by their nakedness (a sign that wings have brushed by them), Sanghyuk thinks he’s on the way out.

But instead he gets clubbed over the head, falls to the snow beneath his feet, and everything turns black.

* * *

When he awakens, Sanghyuk is surrounded by darkness, one that hangs heavy over his shoulders and seems inescapable, one that palpitates around him, thick, tangible. He hears a voice echo through said darkness, taunting him. “I’ve finally gotten you away from him, My Liege.”

He recognises that voice.

“Hongbin…?”

Sanghyuk groans, tries to move, only to find that his limbs are strapped down, not with magic but with thick vines, frozen through with winter and that much tougher for it. He struggles, but gets nowhere, and somewhere far off to the left, Hongbin laughs. 

“It’s no use, I have you now,” he says in that low voice of his, sounding wicked for reasons Sanghyuk cannot quite place. He wants so badly to spit in this fae’s face, to draw his knife and kill this one once and for all -- not for Hakyeon, not this time, but rather for himself.

“Let me out of here.”

“Do you even know where ‘here’ is?”

Sanghyuk closes his eyes despite the darkness, listens for something, anything that clues him in to where he is. Of course, he hears nothing aside from an echoing of cruel laughter off walls that surround him completely, and is more disoriented for it. 

Hongbin lights a fire in his palm; the light is weak, dim, barely illuminates the curves of his face, the shape of his mouth as he speaks. He’s smiling, brilliantly so; the dimples in his cheeks are deep enough that the firelight casts shadows over his whole face. “I decided something,” he says simply, “when Taekwoon decided he didn’t want to pursue you and Hakyeon after all. I decided that I’m not going to let anyone threaten the things -- the people -- I love, not anymore.”

A cruel, high laugh follows. “So I’m going to take Hakyeon’s power, then rip his wings off. But I’m going to use you as bait. You know he loves you?”

It’s the first time Sanghyuk has entertained the thought, at least with some sort of reality to back it up. If someone knows, it’s probably Hongbin -- back before they were close, Hakyeon would pay him visits, check on he and his beloved, make sure they were alright and didn’t need anything.

Apparently, kindness can come back to bite one in the most uncomfortable places.

“So what are you going to do to me…?” Sanghyuk asks through gritted teeth, scowling despite the fact that he knows he can barely be seen in this level of darkness. “You can’t hurt me, Hakyeon would kill you for hurting me --”

“Do you think I’d be that stupid?” Hongbin asks, and there’s a level of irritation to his voice that Sanghyuk has not heard in quite some time, one that vaguely reminds him of Hakyeon -- oh, nature, everything’s going to remind him of Hakyeon here, he’s in that kind of spot, in spite of his current situation. “No, I’m going to tell him I know where Taekwoon took you. He’ll never suspect me of wanting to hurt him...until it’s too late.”

Sanghyuk growls, low in his throat, and then there’s a hand at his chest. “Sleep now,” says the voice through the void of darkness, and Sanghyuk does, even though it’s the last thing he wants to do.

As the spell of drowsiness takes over him, he thinks of Hakyeon, prays that somehow he’ll get out in time to warn him.

* * *

“He’s in here,” says the voice, and Sanghyuk lifts his head, groggy beyond all reason and unable to move still. Hongbin, yet again, this time joined by another presence, one that Sanghyuk can feel despite the magical exhaustion that wracks his slim frame. 

Hakyeon.

The feeling that the other is near sends a tingle up Sanghyuk’s spine; he wriggles against the bonds and tries to cry out, only to find that he’s been bound to keep from speaking, again by magic. He doesn’t know how to help Hakyeon, and his entire body is sent into a panic. If only he could say something, anything, he would be able to save his--

“He’s over there,” and Sanghyuk knows somehow that Hongbin is pointing through the darkness; Hakyeon lights up the room with a fire spell, guides himself to where Sanghyuk is hanging from a wall, and tries to pry him down, to no avail.

That eerie laugh rings against the contours of this -- it must be a cave, not too horribly unlike the one that Sanghyuk and Hakyeon have been sharing for this entire winter -- and Hongbin steps forward into the light. “You’re both here, now,” he says softly, “and I finally get to win.”

“Win?” Hakyeon blinks, confused, “What are you talking about, help me get him down, I have to get him home, who knows what Taekwoon has done to him--”

“You mean what I’ve done to him,” Hongbin murmurs, equally as quiet as before, and Hakyeon stops moving entirely.

“You what?” he demands, short, obviously impatient. “You’re joking, right? All that mess about you running into my house and saying how you just found him, that was a lie?”

“And a pretty obvious one at that,” Hongbin says with a devious smirk. “I can’t believe you came. Especially considering the fact that this boy clearly doesn’t want you in his life anymore. He left you, remember?”

“I don’t understand,” and Sanghyuk is coming more and more to life the more he stares down at the scene before him, the vague figures of two fae before him. “Why would you do this?”

“Because it’s like I told your lover here.” There’s a certain mocking edge to the word ‘lover’, one that makes Sanghyuk shudder at the mere idea of it. “I’m not going to let anything threaten me again.” And he throws a punch, his fist surrounded by ice, sparkling against the faint light of the fire. 

Hakyeon sidesteps him, though only just; Sanghyuk swears he sees that hand clip Hakyeon’s ear. There’s a look on Hakyeon’s face that Sanghyuk has never seen before, one that looks to be rage cut only by determination. There’s a flurry of limbs, a white-hot blaze before them, and Hakyeon’s spring fire melts Hongbin’s winter ice easily.

The law of seasons isn’t so easily defeated, though, because Hongbin goes in again, a series of jabs that Hakyeon cannot escape. He takes several punches to the face, one to his gut that drops him to his knees.

“You’re going to die,” Hongbin grunts through clenched teeth, pulling Hakyeon to his feet, dragging him along and pinning him to the opposite wall, hands at his shoulders, binding him there with magic that he cannot break.

Then his hand goes around Hakyeon’s throat, squeezing tight, pressure against his windpipe, and Sanghyuk nearly sees red. He breaks from his own metaphysical chains, bounding forth off the wall, despite what should be an inability to do so. With all the strength he can muster he shoves Hongbin to the ground; the fae going down with a series of swears pouring from his lips.

This time, Sanghyuk doesn’t ask permission, knowing that it doesn’t matter if Hakyeon gives it or not; he draws the knife from its sheath on his thigh and presses it to the curve of Hongbin’s cheek. No words pass between them, the only sound ringing between these cave walls being that of everyone’s collectively ragged breathing.

Then Sanghyuk presses the blade of his knife into Hongbin’s flesh, dragging it slowly downward, drawing a scream from between Hongbin’s lips.

Sanghyuk smirks. He’s not particularly fond of killing but he’s going to enjoy this one.

* * *

They’re sitting at the entrance to their cave several weeks later, hands clasped together, fingers interlaced.

“Are you going home?” Hakyeon asks, and there’s a genuine lilt to his voice, a tilt to his brows that begs silently: _’Don’t go. Stay with me.’_

Sanghyuk has been considering this question since they had reunited, and the options were stacked against staying, if he was being honest with himself. There’s probably a ransom put out by the royal family, anyone who brings him back alive promised a handsome sum and a lordship and all these other trimmings that Sanghyuk doesn’t care to imagine. His mother probably misses him. His sisters probably want him home.

His father has probably asked after him more than once, and taken notice of his being missing. That is a reward in and of itself. 

There’s a fiancé waiting for him back at court, too, and though he doesn’t know Jaehwan he’s listened to Hakyeon talk about him enough to know that it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, being married to him, spending a very, very long life with him. That option, while appealing, makes Sanghyuk cold in places that he can’t even fathom.

He wouldn’t have to deal with Hakyeon’s constant need to fill silence with pointless conversation anymore, wouldn’t have to feel those little heartaches he feels when Hakyeon leaves even if it’s only for a few hours at a time, wouldn’t have to practice magic that would be useless to him if he lived anywhere else in the world of fae.

But he would miss Hakyeon, more than he cares to admit.

So in the end, his answer is this:

“As much as I miss eating real food, no, I am not going anywhere.”

Hakyeon’s face lights up and he beams, eyes curving up into tiny crescents, his wings fluttering happily. Then he takes Sanghyuk’s face between his palms and kisses him full on the lips, a soft and lingering gesture.

“I love you,” he mumbles when they break apart, and nuzzles his nose against Sanghyuk’s affectionately.

“I love you too.” Sanghyuk kisses the corner of Hakyeon’s mouth, an afterthought to their initial kiss. “Promise me no one else is going to kidnap me?”

“Not until at least the summertime.” Hakyeon laughs, stands up, pulls Sanghyuk up with him. Then they head into their cave, together, fully intent on going to bed.

* * *

Things are somewhat normal after that, aside from the occasional adventurer accidentally stumbling upon them and demanding that Sanghyuk come with them -- for the ransom, of course. Fortunately, the pair of them have been practicing magic again, and they can fend off any intruders quite well.

They don’t hear from Taekwoon until the summer; he comes to their cave full of apologies, and they invite him in readily, the perfect hosts to this imperfect houseguest. Any and all mention of Taekwoon trying to kill them for whatever reason he had -- power or anger or jealousy; it is never spoken -- is brushed over with a joke, a laugh, a smile.

When the autumn rolls around again, Sanghyuk teaches Hakyeon spells, little illusions that were popular in court the year prior. Hakyeon especially enjoys the one of a tiny, glass bluebird, out of place for the season, but lovely all the same.

They make love often, they hold hands always, and once in awhile they get what Sanghyuk refers to as ‘good food’ -- meat spit-roasted over a fire and served with dandelion green soup.

And they live happily ever after.


End file.
